The Secil Adventures
by Cerri-Fae
Summary: A short merge of worlds between Harry Potter characters and my own made up characters. Totally silly, just for fun, most likely continue while on uni break, better description in story.


My day with the harry potter characters added in.

Yes. It was quite a day. I will begin by rearranging this perspective to third person so I can shake things up, and I would like to reiterate the statement 'these characters do not belong to me', as we all know by now, however… this entire story is based on true events. Honestly. Happened to a friend of a friend of mine. A friend called Secil.

And here we go…

(Note: this real-life-encounter-turned-thrilling-fictional-piece takes place not long after the second Secil and Mercery entry on my blog (in my profile).)

(Second Note: this is the first time I've written with other people's characters and it's just a teeny, tiny, tad bit, microscopically infinitesimal- horrendously- hard and outrageously uncomfortable. Literally took me ten seconds to type the first character's name, and I felt awash with wrongness the whole time. So! We know who won't be accused of murder anytime soon…)

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"SECIL!"

Shaking out of her hazy dream about wet frog kisses and nails falling out of planks of wood, Secil turned over sleepily and mumbled, "whmm?"

"SECIL! GET UP! THEY'RE HERE!"

Secil's bedroom door burst open and she lurched into a sitting position, yanking her eyelids open. "Owwwwhh!" she gasped. "Whysso bright?"

"Why are you still in bed?!" Mercery demanded. Secil squinted at her, annoyed at having her delightfully romantic dream cut short, but her annoyed grimace turned into adoration when she noticed how plump Mercery was getting. So suddenly plump. Like a pudding with custard spilling down the sides.

"Why are you smiling?" Mercery demanded, alarmed. "SECIL! THEY ARE WALKING DOWN OUR DRIVEWAY THIS INSTANT! THEY WILL NOTICE OUR DOOR IS NOT WHERE IT SHOULD BE, AND THEY WILL PROBABLY HEAR THE MILKMAN CROAKING AND SEE THE DEAD MAN'S PANTS AIRING ON THE LINE!"

"How will they know they're the dead man's pants?" Secil asked contentedly. She stretched and allowed the aura of little cream-coloured crystal beads wash over her as it flowed out from Mercery's every sweat-induced pore.

"YOU'RE BREATHING IN MY AURA AGAIN!" Mercery shouted and started waving her arms about in a sweeping motion as if gathering a large bundle of eggplants into her bosom.

"You've changed the vibration," Secil said in disappointment as she felt a new sharpness. "It feels like one of Elvis's songs."

"It feels like productivity!" Mercery snapped.

"Oh," Secil thought about this. "I suppose it does."

And at the very instant that Secil agreed with Mercery about something that wasn't James Dean or dog related since the public dispute of '89, there came a light but firm tap from the kitchen.

"Oh my godness it was a sign!" Mercery ran out of the room.

"IT'S GOODNESS!" Secil shouted. She made a mental note to undo their accidental agreement and wondered if something purple would do it. Frowning, she climbed out of bed and checked her schedule for the day. "Boil Sturm." She blinked. "Sturm?" Her frown deepened. Cream was probably needed for such a crease but there was just no time. Sliding down the hallway in her curled-toe orange slippers, striped indigo pajamas and oak-tree coloured dressing gown, Secil slid awkwardly into the kitchen and found herself outfit-clashing with a tall crooked-nosed man standing next to the fridge, much like a seventeen-year-old's worst prom nightmare.

Secil asked him, "Do you happen to know what 'sturm' is?" by way of greeting, and also to point out their common interests. This is how friendships were made.

"Oh, good!" Mercery said brightly. "This is Secil, my sister from the Black Moon." Mercery looked from Secil to the tall man by the fridge then back to Secil and had a moment of elegant pause.

Secil, however, felt an open and genuine, somewhat feathery yet shiny, expansive aura coming from the man who was looking pleasantly down at her with his twinkly eyes. His silver beard twinkled also and Secil liked this. She could look past his atrocious wardrobe taste. Oak-coloured gown over blue stripes? Whatever was he thinking?

"Ah, how do you do," the man asked pleasantly, leaning down to most likely shake hands. "I am-"

"Sorry…" Mercery started, her voice held a trace of a quiver and her eyes were quite bright. "Sorry, I- are you wear- why are you- _the same clothes_!"

"It's fashion!" Secil said defensively.

"It is, isn't it?" the man agreed enthusiastically and asked Secil, "Do you read Wands of Time, too?"

"Fashion!" snorted a woman by the cauldron at the same time Secil said, "Wands of Time?" There was no time for Secil to answer as her attention was pulled away and replaced by the woman's aura. Thick and bristly like a bush but soft, sharp like Mercery's but Secil doubted whether this woman used a boosting machine, and something like the golden inside of a clock.

Mercery turned to the woman, her eyes still ashine, "Oh! And you are Mrs McRollin… MacTrolling hang on, I'll get it…"

"Professor Minerva McGonagall," the woman smiled with a small incline of her head and pointed at the cauldron, "I think your potion is burning?"

"No! No, that's just the toe- toes… toetos-tomatoes!" Mercery said in a loudly incriminating voice, "Uh, toe-toes-"

"The nickname for cherry balls," Secil chimed in quickly. Components of the two auras mingled around in her mind, some presenting themselves stronger in the front of her brain and others lingering only a few seconds. She noticed Professor McGonagall was wearing what looked like a recently-ironed, red dressing gown with puffy black sleeves and a green necklace.

"TOMATOES!" Mercery yelled.

"Oh! Yes! Those," Secil added, suddenly relieved.

"They're not doing too well this season," remarked the tall man sombrely.

"Oh?" said Professor McGonagall with what seemed like accidental interest.

"So," came a slow voice from behind Professor McGonagall, "will we be discussing burning vegetables and fashion incidences until the sun goes down, or are we here to focus on the matter at hand?"

Secil was hit in the face by a yellowy smooth, thin aura mixed with a heavy element of nothing, children's brilliance and small bursts of colour like sprinkles on a cupcake that sparked but fizzed out almost instantly. She had never known nothing to be so tangible and almost reached out to touch it.

Professor McGonagall shook her head a little, as if shaking off a thought, and straightened, and the tall man cleared his throat and said, "Yes, thank you Severus, quite right-"

Mercery whipped around, "There's more of you?"

Severus moved into sight and Secil took in his long greasy black hair, black coat and genie-like floaty black pants. He was carrying an old briefcase.

The tall man next to the fridge nodded, "Indeed, it-"

" _Three_?" Mercery said, disgruntled. Three always meant tea. She rummaged around the counter, knocking flour onto the floor- and consequently the tall man's boot-, spilling a whole jar of egg yolks, and tipping over a canister that emitted a loud puff of pink smoke when the lid fell off.

"My Lust Repellent!" Secil exclaimed, watching the smoke dissolve into the air and feeling as though it was far too early for all these occurrences to be happening at once.

"She means Dust Expellant," Mercery said with a short laugh.

"That took ages to make! _Two_ croaks of Man on the River-"

"That's Strokes of Liver, cooking, daily charts-" Mercery corrected in an action not unlike that of someone who was experiencing a rising anxiety attack.

"And I had to get naked at least _a dozen_ times-"

"She means, bake-ed, baked-"

"No I don't!"

"Baked, baked that Lamb side a dozen times…"

"Liver," chimed in the tall man helpfully.

"It was the most painful and time wasting, and not to mention the cramps I got from all that horrendous writing, spelling! Why bother! _And The Toe. Why-_ "

"SECILIA THERE ARE POLICE PEOPLE HERE ABOUT THE DEAD BODY!" Mercery shouted, slamming a teacup so hard on the bench that it shattered.

Professor McGonagall swiftly waved a wand that she produced from inside her sleeve and the pieces of tea cup flew together in a timely manner and replaced themselves as a whole atop the saucer. "You said police people?" she asked.

Severus said, "You are hiding a dead body?" in what sounded like a hopeful tone.

The tall man chuckled and Secil said, "Oh. Yes, that makes sense. Do we still have to serve them tea?" She wasn't entirely sure they had enough sugar. Or tea bags.

"I fear there has been a grave misunderstanding," said the tall man in a voice that sounded as though he believed it was anything but grave. "I assure you, we are not the police. My name is Albus Dumbledore and these are two of my most respected staff members Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape. We come from Hogwarts-"

Mercery said, "There never was nor ever will be a body in our yard. Beatrice is a liar, has been her whole life, when we were little she told the sweet shop lady I stole half a kilo of chocolate oats-"

"That was Caroline," Secil interrupted, "Beatrice told you to shave your head, and you did."

For a moment it looked as though all the life had left Mercery as she reminisced about that terrible event. Secil was reminiscing about the horrible taste of chocolate oats. Dumbledore was listening intently, suddenly holding a small piece of parchment and a shocking purple feather quill (was he taking notes?), and Professor McGonagall had her eyebrows raised in a way that almost looked as though she was trying hard not to laugh, and had spent a great deal of her life mastering how not to by raising them. Secil eyed the purple quill with a faint suspicion that she needed it. Then a voice cut through the mournful silence.

"Ah, it appears a person has just risen from the ground and taken a pair of pants from the line."

"Hogwarts!" exclaimed Mercery suddenly, looking from Secil and then at the three strangers who claimed to not be police people. "That school over the way, the one that's always in the papers?"

"Flying toadstools," Secil sighed. The way this morning was going, it looked like she would have to break her coffee cleanse yet again.

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(IT'S ALL WRONG. IT FEELS WRONG. WRITING WITH OTHER PEOPLE'S CHARACTERS AND USING THEIR DESCRIPTIONS, however, if you made it this far, thank you and well done. I was two-twelfths bored, one-twelfth inspired, and possibly eight-twelfths trying to avoid writing my uni essay. I'd like to thank the Thesaurus, which helped me more than it will ever know. A child will be named after you, my wise, well-informed, robotically-generated friend, who, at times, struggled to comprehend my ridiculous word choices but never failed to bail me out when it counted. Friendship goals 3)


End file.
